More Than Lace and Ribbons
by Mrs.CriticalBitch
Summary: France is usually himself, but right now he's not... so he's got to do something different. Maybe something nice? No... maybe something even worse than usual. Cause he's got to make a statement. One that isn't just pink and frilly. FrancexEveryone
1. Lower Than You

**_Summary: France is usually himself, but right now he's not... so he's got to do something different. Maybe something nice?!? No... maybe something even worse than usual. Cause he's got to make a statement. FrancexEveryone_**

**Maybe it was the crude drawings of the two nations that made Finland laugh.**

"THE GIT! FRANCE! WHERE ARE YOU," England's voice could be heard from outside of the meeting room. The frenchman was nowhere to be found. The other nation slammed the doors open to no avail, and stomped off. And everyone twiddled their thumbs like it was nothing, while America ranted on about something that didn't particularly interest Finland... it had to do with vampires. He was beginning to wonder if anyone actually arrived on time. The room held him, the much larger Sweden to his left, and a few other shaken countries that had barely stepped out of the way of England as he tore past. Finland still wanted to giggle, but the urge to yawn possessed him. Only France would draw pictures of England and "another country" doing something rather sexual. To bad he finished his yawn, and sadly realized something hiding under the table. Shivering. Finland reached out his hand, but got a rather strange feeling that it wasn't someones head and pulled his hand back. "Oui?" The whispered response he got back told him that the person under the table had to be said 'frenchman' hiding from England.

Sadly, France was a pitiful blob of hangover, and had forgotten why exactly he was angry at England and had thought it a good idea to draw pictures of him and England "getting it on". He had however managed to hide under the meeting table with had a fine cloth over it which covered all but a small part of his rear which didn't fit. He hiccuped and suddenly swore he felt someone hand on said "rear". _'Please not be England... Please not be England,'_ he thought quietly, but out of his drunk stupidity, and his inability to let the butt grope go unquestioned he responded. "Oui," the blonde asked, as he turned around, he got a rather red in the face Finland. He wanted to cry... this was the best day ever. First he avoided getting beaten by England, and then of all people to be found by he was groped on the butt by an unsuspecting Finland. Maybe tears really were forming in his eyes.

Finland was turning beet red as the older man shifted beneath the table. Maybe another nation would see this, but then again Su-san was across the room discussing something... which only left the smaller Finland hoping that someone would come and save him. "What do you want," the blonde hiccuped sadly. He reeked of booze, but Finland noticed he was on the verge of tears... '_Does France fear England that badly_,' he thought. "S'il vous! Don't tell anyone I'm here," he shouted. Francis had probably noticed how Finland had started to scan the crowd for Sweden, and was already clutching onto the smaller boy. Finland realized right then that his head had begun to spin.


	2. Dear Me, Just Where Are We At?

_**"S'il vous plait! Don't tell anyone I'm here," he shouted. Francis had probably noticed how Finland had started to scan the crowd for Sweden, and was already clutching onto the smaller boy. Finland realized right then that his head had begun to spin.**_

France was now pawing at poor Finland's leg and the smaller nation had on a look of utter despair. "Je t'en prie! Je t'en prie! Don't tell anyone i'm hiding!" '_Please don't,'_ France thought as his grip on Finland tightened. The boy's eyes literally were sending invisible lasers over to the back of Sweden's skull as sweat was starting to appear on the young boys neck. France was really annoying, but he didn't know how to deal with this person. He swore he could feel the frenchman getting closer by the second. Where was Sweden when he needed him now?!? "NO!!!," was Francis's last cry as he dove back under the table. Much to Finland's relief Su-san was already coming over, with a grim look on his face. France almost made eye contact with Sweden, but guessed it'd probably be better if he didn't. Shuddering, he just imagined the boot to the face he would get. Or worse, England would come back, and he'd be forced to eat his food. Literally doing some kind of army crawl, France was now possessed by some kind of evil. His only thoughts were_, 'Imbécile! Don't want England's food!!!'_

The blonde crawled farther under the table, brushing past Estonia and making Latvia nearly jump out of his skin. Peering out, he saw that he had only caused a minor disturbance as Estonia peered under the cloth, and Russia had his hand on the shivering Latvia's shoulders. Looking farther back he saw Finland hadn't told Sweden what was going on, but the boy still looked unnerved as Sweden was worrying about him. '_Dieu merci...,_' he thought, still trying to figure a way out that didn't make him go anywhere near the Russian, America, or anyone that even looked like Italy. England wouldn't even get a chance to touch him, especially if Italy somehow revealed him by swinging his legs back and forth under the table. Whatever, it was essential he avoid Italy because no matter how much he wanted the Italian he would be the death of him in some obscure retarded way. Shivering, he shifted barely enough to look around the meeting room...

**And that's when the door was kicked back in, and a fuming and cursing England stomped to his place and sat. France barely realized he had stopped breathing. **

_When did he get to be such a wimp?_ France crawled farther under the table, barely resisting the urge to touch the unsuspecting nations he passed. It took more than a necessary effort to do this and get to where he wanted. Soon everyone was sitting and actually looked somewhat organized. France was crouching near to his chair, nervously drinking from a flask he had hidden from view. Last night had been rough. All Francis remembered was getting pummeled as usual, getting in more trouble, getting kicked in the face... running around naked... and possibly running from something while naked. There were possibly a few other naked countries in there, but the faces were a blur. He couldn't quite remember anymore if it was a drunk Arthur or a lead pipe that had hit him. He did remember the wine and beer though. There had been a lot of it. He scratched his chin kind-of thoughtfully before deciding not to "try" to get into anymore trouble. Right now more than England was looking to hurl him out the rooms double windows, but France almost made no note of that. He swore England had been involved in "one" of his naked festivities. France took one last sip.

Not until someone had officially... **coughed**, and started the meeting did anyone realized that Francis was back in his spot. Much to England's avail, all he could do was glare at him as the blonde hiccuped half drunkenly, and half nervously. The meeting always consisted of three parts. The kinda civil beginning with a few idiotic rants about changing the world (mainly from America), the second part in which some argument broke out and all hell went loose (usually began with someone throwing something or saying something offensive), and finally the last stage was hell; unless someone like Germany or Russia stepped up and put the fear of god into a few countries. Hiccuping and reviewing his options France decided that he would succeed in making a snotty remark and as the first nations got out of their seats to start fights, he would make a break for it. Even a drunk France could escape amidst the second to third part of the meeting, but unfortunately he wasn't sober enough to realize that Sweden, and possibly a few other countries were already planning his funeral, but all Francis was thinking about was more wine.

* * *

_Translations:_

_Je t'en prie. - I beg you._

_Dieu merci. - Thank god.  
_


End file.
